Cassandra Whitmore

The Seasons of Us Young Erin’s POV

Copyright © 2025 by Cassandra Whitmore

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1

Chapter 1

These chapters grow along with Erin. They start very childlike, since her POV begins at age nine, but you’ll see her mature as the story moves forward. This collection will follow her from ages nine to seventeen. (Right now, you have a version that ends when she is twelve. I will update this each time I write a new Erin chapter. You can always find a new copy on my site.) It’s not as long as When We Were Close—instead, it highlights the pivotal moments in Erin’s life, with just a few chapters from each grade.

Keep in mind that these chapters start in the mid-90s. The freedom Erin and her friends had was normal back then, especially in small towns. The sleepovers were a normal part of my life, which is why I included them in the series.

Also, it’s boring to write the same scene from someone else’s POV that I already wrote, so none of these overlap with the ones from When We Were Close. All of these chapters are fresh scenes not seen in the book.

2

Chapter 2

For most kids who celebrate Christmas, it’s a very magical day from the moment you get up until it’s time for bed.

For me though? Christmas Eve is my favourite. You know why? First, we sit together on our big red couch and watch Christmas specials while drinking hot chocolate with tiny marshmallows floating on top and eating snacks—like Mom’s homemade cookies, and then we each get to open one present each before bed.

It’s the one time of year that all of us get along too. Not just Corey and me, but Mom and Dad. Sometimes they fight more than my little brother and I do, their voices getting loud and mean, but it’s like a fairy comes to our house and puts a spell on all four of us, and it lasts for three days. Dad smiles at Mom instead of frowning, and she doesn’t have that tight look around her eyes.

The snow crunched under our boots as I stood on our front lawn with my friends. The porch light from my house made the white snow sparkle like tiny diamonds everywhere.

“Aren’t we a bit old for Christmas specials, Erin?” Trisha asked after I told them what I was doing later, her breath making little white puffs in the cold air.

“We’re nine,” I said, scrunching up my nose in confusion.

Since when was that too old for Christmas shows? My babysitter next door always watched them too, and she’s fourteen! Probably a lot of teens did.

“Exactly,” Trisha said, folding her arms across her chest, more frost forming in the air around her mouth as she spoke.

“I still like watching them,” Bianca said, bouncing a little to keep warm. “Rudolph is my favourite! We get to see how Santa got his reindeer. It’s like a documentary!” She paused, her forehead wrinkling. “Wait, is that the right word?” she added, looking at me with wide eyes, and I shrugged.

I had no idea what a documentary was, or if it was a real word, so I couldn’t say.

“It is nothing like a documentary at all! Santa isn’t real!” Trisha said, her voice getting louder.

“He is too!” Bianca shot back, her cheeks turning red from more than just the cold.

“He isn’t. Right, Erin?”

I hesitated as I took in Bianca’s hurt expression, the way her bottom lip started to tremble. The truth was, I stopped believing two years ago when I caught my father putting the presents under the tree when I snuck down to see if I could catch Santa in the act.

I’d been hiding behind the wall, peeking around the corner, and there was Dad in his pyjamas carrying wrapped boxes instead of Santa in his red suit. But I wished I could still believe in him.

Dad didn’t know I caught him; I always just pretended to believe for Corey’s sake. He was only four, and I didn’t want to take the excitement from him—the way his eyes got all sparkly when he talked about Santa.

Looking at Bianca now, seeing her looks all crumpled up and sad, I didn’t want to take it from her either. Christmas still felt magical to me, but it was different now. Not as enchanting as when I believed in Santa.

So, taking a deep breath that made my own little cloud in the air, I said, “He’s real.”

I looked at Trisha and shook my head a little as she opened her mouth to protest.

“Whatever,” she muttered, kicking at a chunk of snow with her boot.

“And furthermore,” I said, using a word I’d heard my teacher use, “the time limit on Christmas specials is sixteen. That’s when you’re a grown-up. My babysitter, Chelsea, still watches them! It’s actually very cool to watch them! We will agree to stop watching them when we are sixteen.”

“Okay. I do kind of like Frosty the Snowman,” Trisha said, her face relaxing as relief spread across it. “We will probably be at cool parties when we are that age anyway.”

“Exactly—” I began, but the warm yellow light from our front door spilled across the snow as Mom opened it and called for me to come inside.

“Go on home, girls, the street lights are on,” she called out to Bianca and Trisha.

Most of us lived by the rule that once the street lights came on, it was time to go home. Trisha didn’t have to be home until seven, and Bianca was staying at her place for dinner, so I knew they weren’t worried.

“I’ll see you guys in a few days,” I said before rushing toward the door, my heart beating fast with excitement for our magical night to begin.

When I stepped inside, the warm air hit my cold cheeks, making them tingle.

I entered the living room after taking off my snowsuit to find Corey already sitting cross-legged in front of our big TV, holding a large present wrapped in shiny red paper out to me with both hands.

“I picked this one for you,” he told me, a wide grin stretching across his visage.

As annoying as he could be, he had the cutest cherub looks I’d ever seen. Usually, I thought bowl cuts looked silly on anyone, but it suited him with his large blue eyes that looked almost too big for his mug. His blond hair and his delicate features made him look like a doll.

“Thank you, just let me see which gift should be for you,” I told him, walking over to the lit tree where colourful boxes sat underneath, some tall, some small, all wrapped in different papers.

We had always exchanged one gift on this night, but it was me who started the tradition for someone else to pick the gift instead of us just choosing a gift we wanted.

When Corey was born, I’d thrown a big stink about it. Hating him at first sight because he wasn’t the little sister I’d ordered from Mom and Dad, but I felt bad for being mean to him, so our first Christmas, I picked his gift out to make up for it. We had done it that way every year since.

Usually, it’s Mom and Dad who pick out each other’s while Corey and I pick out each other’s.

After looking over the gifts, moving some around, and checking the tags, I spotted the one I knew he had to open that night.

It was wrapped in white paper covered with green and red ribbons—Mom and I had gone shopping for it together at the toy store. It was something he’d been obsessing about since we’d watched Toy Story in the dark theatre back in November, him bouncing in his seat the whole time. A week later, we’d gone shopping for it.

“I think tonight is going to be special,” Corey told me, his eyes lighting up and getting even bigger if that was possible.

“Isn’t it always?”

“Yeah, but extra special. Know why?”

“Why?”

“We get two presents. Daddy has a present for each of us to open, too. He told Mommy when I was watching The Jetsons.”

But why? Maybe he was sorry for all the fighting lately. I was used to it—the way their voices got sharp and mean—but it was extra fighting lately. Like more shouting that made the walls feel like they were shaking.

He hadn’t even been home as much because of it. He slept on my Uncle Victor’s scratchy couch instead of ours, but last night he slept at home and with Mom.

“Do you think it means they won’t fight as much?” Corey asked, and I felt my heart squeeze tight seeing his hopeful look.

I hated it probably as much as he did, but he was so little. He didn’t even remember when they didn’t fight, when Mom laughed more, and Dad didn’t slam doors.

Home used to be fun and good, where life always felt like magic, but when Mom had Corey in her tummy, things went bad. Her belly got big and round, and everything else got angry and loud. I think it was another reason why I was mean to him when he was born. I blamed him. Maybe I still did, but I’d never tell him that.

“Yes,” I said instantly, wanting to wipe that worried look away. “I think so. Two presents is a very big deal. Maybe we are going on a family trip too. We used to all the time. That is probably what the gift is.”

“Where are we going?”

Before I could answer, Mom and Dad entered the room carrying trays that clinked with mugs and plates. Mom had her blond hair pulled back and was wearing her green Christmas sweater with the reindeer on it. Dad’s eyes were heavy, his shoulders slumped like he’d been carrying the world all day, but he was smiling.

“I know what channel to put it on!” Corey said excitedly, reaching for the black remote control.

“Just hang on, we’re doing presents first,” Dad said after they set the trays on the coffee table, and something in his voice sounded different. Flat.

Corey and I glanced at each other excitedly as Dad walked over to his chair and picked up a small bag beside it, the paper crinkling as he pulled out a couple of gifts. He handed one to each of us—mine was small and square, Corey’s was long and skinny—and told us we could open them now.

Excitedly, I ripped the red shiny wrapping paper off the small box, tearing it into pieces that fell on the carpet.

Inside was a little jewellery box covered in soft pink velvet. When I opened it, there was the most gorgeous necklace I’d ever seen lying on white satin. It looked like a grown-up necklace, not the plastic ones they usually let me wear.

The chain was so delicate, and a heart was hanging from it that caught the light from our lamp. Was this a real diamond or fake?

Beside me, Corey was yelling excitedly about the Hot Wheels he’d been given. A red car was already rolling across the carpet.

I glanced up to see what Dad wanted to give Mom before opening my other gift. She was sitting on the edge of the couch, her hands folded in her lap.

“Here’s your Christmas gift,” he said, walking over and handing her a manila folder instead of a wrapped box.

“What is this?” She asked, her eyebrows pulling together as she took it.

“Divorce papers. I can’t stand to do this with you anymore. You and I both know it’s not working. It’s time. I’ve met a new woman, and I plan to stay with her until you and the kids move out—”

Beside me, Corey’s mouth fell open and he dropped the Buzz Lightyear action figure he’d just unwrapped. The one he’d been begging for since we’d seen the movie. It hit the floor with a plastic thunk. I didn’t know how much he understood, but I knew all about divorce.

Nicky, one of the other girls in my group, had just gone through it last year and told us all about how her dad moved to an apartment and she only saw him on weekends.

As Dad kept talking, saying words like “affair” and “custody,” everything went quiet and fuzzy in my head like I was underwater. But then I saw tears stream down my little brother’s red cheeks, and hot anger filled up my chest like fire.

Deep down, maybe part of me had seen the divorce coming. Nicky had told me the warning signs to look out for: the fighting, Dad sleeping at other places, and them not talking nicely to each other. But did he have to do it tonight? On our special night? After he gave us gifts, as if nothing was wrong?

He could have done this weeks ago, or maybe after Christmas. As I pulled Corey into my arms, feeling his little body shake as he sobbed harder, I glanced at my parents. Mom wasn’t crying, but her face was white as snow, and then she lifted her hand and smacked my father right across his cheek. The sound was sharp and loud.

They’d never hit each other before.

“You had to know it was coming,” Dad said, not even flinching.

“But to do it tonight?” Mom’s voice was shaking now. “And in front of the children?” She looked over at Corey and me, and that’s when I realized my own cheeks were wet with tears. “I know you did this to hurt me, but what about them? Let’s go talk in the kitchen.”

“Nah, I’m done here. This is my house, and you knew that when we married. It’s in the pre-nup. I’ll give you time to find a place to live, and in the meantime, I’ll be staying with Angela. We’ll make arrangements for the kids then,” then he added in a lower voice that maybe he thought we couldn’t hear because Corey was crying so loud, or perhaps he didn’t care. “I’ve always thought you trapped me when you got pregnant with Erin. I’m still not convinced she is mine.”

My stomach dropped like I was falling down a deep hole. He wasn’t my father? What did that mean? Was that why he never wanted to play with me like other dads did with their kids?

“We can get another paternity test as soon as possible if you still believe that,” Mom said through her teeth, her voice like ice. “But you’d better not take it out on her!”

“I’m sorry, kids, I know you were looking forward to this. I’ll have Christmas with you in a few days. In the meantime, have a good day, and I think Santa will leave you some amazing gifts this year.”

I wanted to yell that I knew Santa didn’t exist, that I’d seen him putting presents under the tree, but I looked at Corey, who was still sobbing against my shoulder, his tears making my shirt wet. I couldn’t do that to him. His night was already ruined enough.

Instead, as Mom and Dad moved to the kitchen, their voices getting quieter but still angry, I unwrapped my other present with one hand while hugging Corey with my other arm. My fingers fumbled with the tape.

Another me would have loved the Barbie Dreamhouse sitting in the pink and blue box in front of me. I’d be ripping the cardboard open and setting it up if Dad hadn’t done what he just did.

All I could do was stare at the picture on the box—two Barbies smiling outside their perfect pink Victorian house—feeling nothing but hot, angry fire in my chest.

I looked at Corey again, at his red eyes and snotty nose, and all I wanted was to take control and take that sad, broken look away.

“You know what?” I asked, gently pulling away from him.

“What?” He asked, wiping at his face with the back of his hand.

“Let’s open all these presents. Christmas is happening right now! Not tomorrow! Put on the Christmas specials and let’s have fun.”

Corey nodded, trying to smile, but it didn’t quite reach his puffy eyes. Still, he did as I asked and pointed the remote at the TV, clicking until he found the right channel.

The Grinch filled the screen as we dove under the tree together. We ripped through every single present, not caring whose name was on the tag.

Wrapping paper flew everywhere—red and green and silver pieces covering the carpet like confetti. We tore through them until we were sitting in a sea of ripped paper with toys and clothes scattered all around us.

Mom came back into the room just as we finished, her face red and blotchy. I froze, my heart beating fast. If we got in trouble, I’d take all the blame. Corey shouldn’t get in trouble because of me.

Instead, Mom came over to us, stepping carefully through all the torn paper, and knelt on the floor. She held her arms open wide.

“Come here,” she said, her voice soft and gentle, like when we were sick.

Corey threw himself into her arms, bawling again, and I followed moments after. But I held my tears in, pressing my lips together tight.

I made a promise to myself right then, sitting on the floor surrounded by ripped wrapping paper and broken Christmas dreams.

I’d never let anyone make me feel that bad and vulnerable again. From that second on, I’d always be in control of how others made me feel, but I’d also do what I could to prevent the people I loved from hurting too.

3

Chapter 3

I knew it wasn’t my mom’s fault when we had to move again. I didn’t blame her one bit, even if I felt some resentment. I even understood why we moved hours away from where we used to live.

It wasn’t easy for her to stay in the same town where Dad was, especially because he’d suddenly started ignoring Corey and me out of nowhere.

I pretended it never bothered me because of Corey, but I’d been screaming inside about their divorce since Dad walked out on us that Christmas Eve.

Now I had to start at a new school where I didn’t know anyone. I’d been going to the same school since kindergarten.

I’d had the same friends since then and knew I would miss the girls. I hadn’t mentioned the divorce to them until the last day of school, when I told them I was leaving. They’d been shocked and upset with me for keeping it all from them. I could understand their anger, but it’d been hard to talk about it with anyone, not even those in my family.

“I thought you said we’d be best friends forever,” Bianca had said.

I’d tried to explain that to them, but I wasn’t sure if they understood or forgave me. We hung out a little bit for the beginning of the summer until moving day. They’d given me cute little gifts, and it made me sad knowing they would grow up and go to high school without me.

All five of us always talked about being like those cool girls you saw on teen shows or movies. The ones people loved and hated. A childish dream, but at the time, a fun fantasy for a bunch of fourth-graders.

This new town was okay. Before we moved, Mom said it was small, and since the neighbours looked out for each other, I could go places alone.

This town didn’t even have any traffic lights, and there was only a store, an arena, and a pizza place. I thought the school seemed cool.

It was split into two different parts. One was for the fifth graders and younger. The other building was for the big kids. It was like a mini junior high! It wasn’t one, but I liked to think of it that way.

Starting at a new school was scary since I didn’t know anyone, but I looked forward to being the oldest in the central part of the school. I thought I’d have to wait until eighth grade for that. I wasn’t sure if it would make a difference there, but I hoped it did.

It had a nice playground for the younger kids, while the older kids shared the other portion, although Mom had said there was a separate area reserved just for the fourth and fifth-graders. It was a small court area located between the schools, lined with shrubs and bushes along its walls, and featuring a small basketball court.

I spent most of the summer going there and peering in the windows. I didn’t run into anyone my own age when I went out. I’d see older teens hanging out there in the evenings, or kids around Corey’s age during the day, but I didn’t think I saw anyone in the fourth or fifth grade.

All I had was Corey; while I loved my little brother, he was a pest at times. He’d get into everything in my room, even when I told him no. Sometimes I wondered if it was the divorce, because he acted like a three-year-old instead of a boy going off to his first day of senior kindergarten. I never acted like that when I was his age.

He always thought it was funny to push my stuff off my desk or mess up my bed. Before we moved, he would often hang out with me and my friends. I’d stopped inviting them over, which was why it was so easy to hide the divorce from them. That, and the fact that we shared a bedroom once we moved into an apartment with Mom, since Dad’s house was an inheritance.

Thankfully, I had my own room again, and it was the second biggest room. Mom had made sure it was decorated to my taste, mainly in pink and white.

Corey’s room featured all the characters from Space Jam since he was obsessed with that movie. I knew that could change, but Mom thought it’d be suitable for a few years before she had to change it. She was doing whatever it took to help us be comfortable here.

I was really okay with the new town, but I was going to miss my girlfriends and scared I’d never make friends the same way again. I tried not to think about the fact that they were all getting ready for the first day of fifth grade together.

4

Chapter 4

On the eve of my first day, I thought about the fact that back at home, I’d be picking out an outfit with the girls for our first day. We always tried to dress alike, just not in identical outfits or colours—only second graders did that. We just tried to have the same style.

It hurt knowing they were doing that without me. I knew life had to go on for them, and I didn’t blame them, but the hurt was still there.

Usually, I could fall asleep fast, but not that night. I kept thinking about being ignored by all the kids. While I’d never been mean to any new kids, my girlfriends and I had been happy with our group.

We’d never invited anyone to hang out with us, unless it was a party or something. Usually, by fifth grade, people already had their best friends, and sometimes it could be hard to penetrate a group.

Often, I made friends easily—like at camp, but I was still worried anyway, as I knew how some kids could be at school.

I had to walk Corey to and from school every day until I was in grade nine or until Mom decided he could do it independently. I was hoping he’d be able to do it by second grade. I’d been allowed because of how close the school had been, but Mom kept going on about how safe this town was, so I was hoping he could go on his own even next year.

On the first day, I didn’t mind too much. I appreciated his chatter as we walked to school. He was lucky; he had it easier because he was five. At that age, kids made friends with everyone, and Corey was definitely one of those kids. Other kids loved him, especially little girls.

I saw kids of all ages making their way to school on the way, and some were on their own, not much older than Corey, which gave me hope.

It seemed that the parents around here really did trust their neighbours and this town enough to know that their kids could get to and from school safely. In my old town, some kids had been driven in, or they took a bus. Mom said only kids from another town took the bus here.

There was a separate area for the kindergartners at the school, so I took Corey there, where I met his teacher. Then, I moved on to the courtyard for the fourth and fifth graders.

It wasn’t too crowded, but I could see people my age standing in groups, talking. I saw three girls run over to hug each other, making me think of my friends back home.

They were probably doing that right now. It didn’t matter if we saw each other over the summer; we were still happy to see each other on the first day of school. I was sure it was the case with these girls. Maybe they would be my friends.

They’d probably welcome me as their friend that day, and soon enough, we’d have sleepovers at my house. I’d of course be the leader of our group by sixth grade. The girls at home had always seen me as their leader. Who would lead them now? Hopefully not Trisha. She had a mean streak sometimes.

I got there a little late, which was a relief—fewer minutes to stand awkwardly before the bell. I followed the flow of students through the front doors, backpack straps digging into my shoulders. The gym was already buzzing, full of squeaking sneakers and the low hum of kids trying to figure out where to sit.

Even without knowing our classes, everyone instinctively grouped themselves by grade. I spotted the fifth graders toward the middle rows and made my way over. Corey was already near the front, whispering something to a small boy with messy dark hair. They both grinned like they’d been best friends forever. I exhaled, shoulders dropping. At least he was settling in.

I sat on the floor between two boys. One of them was chewing on his hoodie string. The other tapped his fingers against his knee, drumming some rhythm only he could hear. I thought about saying something—anything, but the words stuck in my throat. Usually, talking to new kids wasn’t a big deal for me. But something about this day, this gym, this school—it made everything feel heavier.

I told myself it would be easier in class. Teachers usually grouped desks together, and desk mates talked. It would happen naturally.

Once we arrived in our new room, we were instructed to find our seats. Our names were written on little folded cards at each desk. I wandered until I spotted mine and slid into the chair, glancing sideways.

My desk mate was a girl. Relief bloomed in my chest.

She was a little taller than I, all elbows and long limbs, with straight brown hair that brushed her shoulders and eyes the colour of polished chestnuts. She kept her chin down, fiddling with the spiral edge of her notebook. When I glanced her way, she flicked her eyes up, and for a second, our gazes met.

Then she turned quickly back to her paper, cheeks flushing. She hadn’t said a word, but something about her posture—the slight hunch in her shoulders, the tight grip on her pencil—said plenty. She was just as nervous as I was.

Maybe even more.

Perhaps she was very shy. I’d had shy kids at my old school too. Bianca had been shy when we first became friends, and she still could be around people outside our group. So I figured I’d ease this girl’s worries by mentioning that I was new just to make conversation. I just hoped I wasn’t stating the obvious since she’d likely been going here for years.

I was relieved and surprised to find out that not only was she new as well, but she’d met another new kid named Brandon in the bushes. As she continued to talk to me, I thought she seemed like a sweet girl, and I was eager to meet this guy as well. Perhaps I was already making new friends.

At recess, she introduced me to him, a cute boy with brown hair and brown eyes, who thought we should start a friendship with a contract—something I’d never heard before, but I wanted to be his friend.

He seemed a bit serious, but very nice. All three of us seemed to connect right away; even Ashley, who’d barely talked during class, was a lot more open once it was just the three of us at recess.

“It sucks that Brandon has to be in the other class,” Ashley said to me once we were back in the classroom later on. “Especially since he doesn’t like his desk mate. I hope he stays friends with us anyway.”

“I think he will,” I responded. “He wanted us to sign a contract. It’s silly, and I still think it’s weird, but he wants to be friends. I dunno why he thinks we need to sign one though.”

“He said his dad said it’s always best to have them,” she said. “He seems so grown up, though, and he might like the other boys better, though. I hope not.”

“Well, we’ll stay friends no matter what, contract or no contract,” I told her.

And it was a promise we’d keep for the rest of our lives. In fact, it was a promise the three of us, eventually, the four of us, would keep forever, even if we did have some lost years.

I had a feeling that Ashley hadn’t really made too many friends at her old school, and I wanted to know more about her. I wanted to break her out of her shell, and I wanted to understand more about Brandon and his contracts as well.

There had to be a reason why he felt the need to have one. So while we were supposed to be writing an assignment about what we did over the summer, I was thinking about what we could all do to get to know each other.

I wanted to stay friends with both of them, but I wasn’t naive enough not to know that Brandon could drift away. At the moment, while I did like Brandon and I did want to be his friend, I wanted to be Ashley’s friend more.

I needed another girlfriend I could share notes with, another girl to have sleepovers with, another girl to talk about cute boys, another girl to grow up with and share my teen years with, just like I had before. Brandon could be a good friend, too, but friendships between girls were different.

Since the three of us had signed, we must have agreed to be best friends. Best friends didn’t keep secrets from each other. We could all agree that since we wanted to be best friends, we shouldn’t have secrets between the three of us. The more we got to know each other and hung out, the more we’d see if we were compatible.

I knew soon enough that it would be unspoken that I would be the leader of our little group. We weren’t there yet, but I knew by grade six that I would be the one in charge. It made it easier when a person was as quiet as Ashley.

I wanted to share the plan that was forming in my head with her (not about me being the leader, just the rest), but I figured I could bring it up since the three of us had agreed to hang out at recess.

Instead, I told Ashley stories about my little brother while she told me stories about her big sister during lunch. We exchanged treats since her chocolate pudding looked better than my Twinkies.

“Maybe we can always trade at lunch,” I told her as we headed outside for recess.

“Depends on what Mom packs. We don’t have a lot of money; she’s a single mom,” Ashley told me.

I understood what she was implying, as we were also experiencing those problems. I knew Mom got money from Dad, but we weren’t as financially stable as we were before.

“I get it,” I said. “So whatever our moms pack for us, we can trade if we like the others better.”

Brandon was sitting on a bench, so we went over and sat on either side of him. The three of us made small talk about what we’d done after recess before I decided to bring up my idea.

“Okay, so I was thinking that since we signed that contract, we’ve decided we’re going to be best friends, right?” I asked.

“I hope so,” Ashley said while Brandon said, “Yes, of course.”

“Okay, good, I thought maybe since we decided that, we can share secrets too to get to know each other, but we also should always tell each other secrets,” I said. “And if we get bored with each other or something, or if we meet other friends, we should talk to each other first. I don’t think we should just drift apart.”

“Why would you be worried about that?” Brandon asked. “We did sign a contract.”

“Stupid fake contracts won’t mean anything if we don’t get along. Marriage ones don’t! But… Ashley’s worried that you might drift from us ‘cause you are in a different class,” I told him. “It could happen with any of us, but I figured it’d ease her worries if we discussed it.”

Ashley turned pink at my words, her fingers twisting in the hem of her shirt. I didn’t mind. If we were saying we’d stick together, then we should be able to discuss it openly.

Brandon looked over at her like he was hearing something for the first time. “I’m not going to ditch you,” he said—his voice firm, which didn’t leave room for argument.

But it was the you that hit me—like a dart.

His eyes stayed on her a second too long. That emphasis—so slight anyone else might’ve missed it—settled in my chest like a weight.

I didn’t say anything. Just looked down at the ground and picked at a loose thread on my sleeve. I told myself not to read into it.

But I did.

And I would again.

At the time, I didn’t have the words for it. I just knew I suddenly felt like the third person in a group of two.

“Why would I ditch you?” Brandon asked, his tone baffled. He didn’t even glance at me. Maybe if he had, he would’ve seen the way I shrank just a little in my seat.

“You’re a boy and you’re in a different class,” Ashley said softly. “And you might want to hang out with the boys instead.”

“I can hang out with you two and anyone else,” he replied quickly, as if it were apparent. “I don’t ditch friends. We’re all new here. I just wish Matthew could be nice too, so that he could be our friend.”

Ashley nodded, but I wasn’t sure she really believed him. I wasn’t even sure I did.

That conversation would become the first of many. Reassuring Ashley would be a regular thing as we got older—especially once high school hit. It was like she couldn’t quite grasp that people might want her around. Brandon, though… he always looked at her like he got it from the start. She never noticed. She was too busy bracing for rejection that hadn’t even happened.

I kept quiet after that. My hands stayed folded in my lap, but the question was loud in my head.

Did Brandon only talk to me because of her?

We’d promised not to keep secrets from each other, but I couldn’t bring myself to ask him—not in front of her. I didn’t want to make her feel guilty for something that wasn’t her fault.

I just needed to understand what he’d meant. That’s all.

Maybe I’d ask him one day when it didn’t feel so complicated.

5

Chapter 5

Brandon’s house didn’t look real. The first time we saw it, Ashley and I just stood there at the gate, staring through the iron bars like we were outside a castle.

The long driveway curved past trees that looked perfectly trimmed, like someone had measured them. The house itself was massive and blindingly white, with windows tall enough to be storefronts and columns that looked like they belonged in a museum. A movie house. That’s what it reminded me of—a place people filmed scenes in, not actually lived in.

Ashley barely said a word the whole walk up the driveway. Her eyes kept darting around like she expected someone to come out and tell us we weren’t allowed there. I was overwhelmed, but she looked like she might bolt if Brandon hadn’t met us at the front door himself.

After that first visit, the shock started to wear off. The Wellingtons were warm and welcoming—Mr. Wellington joked with us like we were his own kids, and Mrs. Wellington always had something fresh baked. They never made us feel like we didn’t belong, even if their staircase was bigger than my entire living room.

It didn’t take long before Ashley and I felt comfortable there. Almost.

We didn’t visit as often as we wanted to. Brooke, Brandon’s older sister, had a habit of appearing the second we started laughing too loudly. She’d snap at us from the landing like she was the house’s hall monitor.

At my house, Corey never left us alone for more than five minutes, constantly tugging on Ashley’s sleeve or asking to join our games. So, weekends usually meant meeting up at Ashley’s place—a middle ground with fewer interruptions and no one telling us to quiet down.

But that first time? I don’t think either of us blinked until we were through the front door.

I loved being at the Wellington house. Everything was shiny and big, and the fridge always had the good snacks. Brandon’s house was so different from mine and Ashley’s. He had three older siblings—Brittany, Brooke, and Brent—and I thought Brent was the coolest person I’d ever seen.

The first time I met him, I forgot how to talk properly. He looked like someone you’d see on a movie poster and had that perfect older-kid confidence. He was sixteen, but he never acted annoyed when we were around. Sometimes, he’d let me sit in his room and talk while he did homework or played video games. He called me Sunshine sometimes, which made my face feel hot in a weird, fluttery way I didn’t fully get. I liked it, though. A lot.

But he always called Ashley little sister.

So did Nick, his best friend. They looked at her as if she were something special, and even though they were nice to me, it wasn’t the same. Ashley didn’t seem to notice. She never acted like she thought she was special. If anything, she was always trying to make sure we didn’t ditch her. She worried way too much about that, but maybe she didn’t need to. Everyone already liked her.

Sometimes I wondered if maybe boys just didn’t like me. I knew we were only in grade five, but it still felt like something was off. Dad hadn’t called since we moved. He would always ask me about my first day of school every year. After the divorce, I’d get home, and he’d be waiting on the phone, ready to listen. When we moved here, there was nothing. Not even a message.

Mom said he and I were fine—it was just her he didn’t get along with anymore. But how could that be true if he didn’t even want to know how I was doing? How could someone stop caring?

It was easier not to think about it when we were all together. When Brent was teasing Brandon, or Nick was giving us piggybacks even though Brooke yelled at us, or when Ashley was giggling at something I said that was dumb. For a little while, it felt like I belonged somewhere.

Even if they only ever called her their little sister.

Brandon seemed to notice something was off a few weeks into October. We were at his place, and Brent and Nick were tickling Ashley until she shrieked with laughter, her legs kicking in the air. They did that a lot. They’d nudge her, joke with her, call her kid or squirt or little sister like it was some inside joke that didn’t include anyone else.

Sure, they joked with me too—Nick once threw a pillow at my head so hard I fell off the couch—but it was different. Like the way you’d laugh at someone you liked, but not in the same soft way you laugh at someone you adore.

I tried to pretend I didn’t care, but I must not have been good at it.

“How come you’re so quiet?” Brandon asked while we sat on the carpet, leaning against the couch. “You’re never quiet.”

I hesitated, then blurted out, “I always feel like everyone likes Ashley better. Especially you.”

He blinked. “No one likes her better,” he said, but he didn’t quite look me in the eye.

That told me everything.

“Then how come when we first became friends, you told Ashley you’d never stop being friends with her… but not me?”

“She was the one worried about it,” Brandon replied quickly. “You said she was scared we’d ditch her. So I told her I wouldn’t.”

“But you said you—not you both,” I said, crossing my arms. “You left me out.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did,” I said, my voice going tight. “Maybe you didn’t mean to, but you did.”

“If it was by accident, it doesn’t count,” he said.

That made my eyes sting. “It counts even more if it’s an accident,” I snapped. “It means you didn’t even think about me.”

Brandon scratched at the carpet, avoiding my eyes. “I dunno what to tell you, Erin. You’re my friend too. I’m not gonna stop hanging out with you. I’ve had time to decide, and I want both of you to be my best friends. I don’t get why you’re making it a competition.”

That was something Brandon would say a lot as we got older. Whenever I pointed out how he always gave her the first hug, held the door for her instead of me, or looked at her when something funny happened, rather than me, he’d act like I was imagining things. Or worse, like I was being petty.

Maybe he really didn’t notice. Or maybe he did and didn’t want to admit it. I always thought it was the second one. He didn’t want to hurt me, so he pretended things were equal.

But they weren’t.

I still questioned it all the time—especially since most of the kids in our class usually picked me first. I was the one people partnered with, the one who got invited to birthday parties, the one everyone knew would speak up in class.

Then, in December, Matthew joined our group. He was rough around the edges and didn’t warm up to people easily, but even then, he always sat beside me, always talked to me more—even when Ashley was right there.

And I knew he cared about her. He never forgot that she was the one who found him that day, who brought him into our lives and gave him a way out of whatever his life had been before. He felt he owed her, and I think in his own quiet way, he loved her like family for that. But still… he was drawn to me. That attention felt good, like I was finally being seen.

Yet no matter how many times other people chose me, I still couldn’t understand why it never felt that way with Brandon—especially as we left fifth grade behind and walked straight into sixth.

6

Chapter 6

Sometime between fifth and sixth grade, Brandon, Matthew, and I grew up from playing kiddish games to wanting to do more grown-up things, but she stayed stagnant as a fourth or fifth-grader.

A good amount of the time, we didn’t even want to play the games she wanted to play, but Brandon would insist we do it anyway. She was still playing with dolls and Barbies while I was trying to experiment with makeup, and I wanted to dress more grown-up. She still insisted on wearing kids’ clothing.

She was my best friend, but she just couldn’t see that it was her insecurity and immaturity that turned the other kids off from her.

I often wondered if we hadn’t befriended the way we had, if we wouldn’t have liked each other after all. Perhaps if I’d moved here for sixth grade instead of fifth, I might have been turned off from a friendship with her, but I felt guilty thinking like that because I knew Ashley and I loved her just like I loved Brandon and Matthew.

Brittany, Brandon’s older sister, was more than happy to talk about fashion and makeup with me. She even started teaching me about it. I tried to include Ashley, but she didn’t want to be involved. I complained to Brittany, hoping I didn’t sound like I was bad-mouthing her.

“You’re both just eleven, you have time to grow up,” Brittany told me. “All kids grow up at different rates. Let her be. I didn’t stop playing with dolls until seventh grade. I think Brooke was in eighth grade, but she’ll deny it if you bring it up. Please don’t make her feel bad for something she still enjoys doing, and I’ve noticed all four of you do have fun playing the childish games, too. You have plenty of time to grow up, Erin, and someday you’ll look back and wish you could still play.”

“I guess so, but the other kids don’t like her ‘cause of it, and she always thinks it’s because she is shy, but it’s not,” I said.

“Well, the four of you are all that matters,” Brittany said. “Remember, we all put up with your jigsaw craze and now that controlling and competitive streak you seem to have lately. You’ve all had to put up with Brandon’s contracts, which thankfully he’s been growing out of since he met you guys, and look at what Matthew does. Out of all of you, her playing with dolls or house is probably the most tame.”

The year before, we’d put together a one-thousand-piece puzzle, and I’d enjoyed doing it so much that for most of fifth grade, I’d been into doing them.

Brent had been punished for a month the year before for shoplifting, which had been a dream come true for me because he never made me go away. He sat with me and put together the puzzles.

Even when my friends got tired of it, and even Brittany, Brent never once said no. I’d done them with Nick, too, but I’d spent more time with Brent doing them.

I knew Brittany was right. All of us had our quirks, and right now, Brandon was putting up with me putting on makeup and perfume in his bathroom, even though he didn’t want it smelling ‘girly.’

I was slowly trying to make his room more girl-friendly since all four of us hung out there, and it was all Brandon’s male stuff. No one but Matthew really fought it, and I knew it was because deep down, they knew I was the leader of our group.

I’d changed Ashley’s room, but she was okay with it. It’d been too childish, so she’d let me make it look like a teenager lived there instead of a seven-year-old, though she refused to put her stuffed animals or cat stuff away.

“I suppose so, but how long do you think it will take?” I asked Brittany. “I’m not just bringing it up because it annoys me sometimes. I just want the other kids to like her, too. Outside of us, only Seth and Chad like her and maybe the Baker twins or the three ditzes of sixth grade.”

“You shouldn’t call anyone a ditz. Anyway, for her? You might not like this, but it could still be another year, Erin,” Brittany said. “Just let her outgrow it herself, just like you have.”

All I wanted was for her to at least show more interest in clothes, but her clothes always featured something with cats on them or a Disney cartoon character, or she just wore plain, wrinkly, baggy t-shirts or sweaters.

I had a feeling she was going toward the tomboy fashion instead. Her sister was a tomboy, so it didn’t surprise me. She was always trying to impress her sister, who just didn’t want anything to do with her.

It wasn’t that being a tomboy was a bad thing, but most of the ones I knew looked put together, including Katie, Ashley’s sister. Katie always looked gorgeous, and her style perfectly complemented her personality.

Ashley didn’t know how to match or wear clothes properly, though, so she looked unkempt in the baggy, mismatched clothes hanging off her thin frame because they were too big for her.

The other day, she’d shown up in shiny yellow leggings and a baggy, holey hot pink sweater with a glittery cat face on it, the kind little kids wear. The colours looked awful together, like she’d picked them out in the dark.

Despite that, though, the four of us were so close that I barely thought of my old friends as much. We still talked on the phone at times, and we still wrote each other letters, but I had a feeling we’d eventually drift apart as the letters and phone calls became less frequent. Bianca and Trisha had boyfriends already, and I was jealous because I always thought I’d be the first.

I knew people weren’t supposed to compete with their friends, but I worried about Ashley getting more boys than me. Sure, the boys at school ignored her except Seth and Chad, and they were just friends, but sometimes even they seemed to prefer her over me, just like Brandon did.

The rest of the boys didn’t, though, in either sixth-grade class. That year, we were separated. I was with Brandon that year, though we didn’t sit together often. He usually sat with Seth or Morgan instead if seats weren’t assigned. I never understood why.

So I went to Brittany for help, although I left out the part about competing with Ashley. I just asked her how to get boys to notice me more so I could get a boyfriend. She’d told me just to interact with them, but not to expect anything from it. The boys noticed me, but none of them were ready for a commitment yet.

Ashley didn’t show any real interest in other boys besides Brandon, and it was then that I noticed the affection between my two best friends could be more than what I thought it was. The two always sat together, and Brandon would play with her hair or cuddle her when we watched movies together.

Both boys let us sit on their laps, but Brandon usually let her sit on him more. He even let her start sitting on him whenever we had to sit on the gym floor. At first, it was because she hurt her tailbone, but I wasn’t sure why after that.

What surprised me was that the teachers never said anything. At my old school, kids in grade eight had been suspended for dancing too close. At a school dance!

I joked with Brandon about it one afternoon toward the end of sixth grade. Since all the sixth graders took gym together, we always shared the gym with Ashley and Matthew’s class, who were in a split grade six/seven class.

“I think you secretly like her,” I teased Brandon as we stepped into the classroom, the usual buzz of chatter around us.

He didn’t stop walking. “I just let her sit on me,” he muttered halfway to his desk before I could press further.

He said it like it meant nothing, but it never felt like nothing. She practically lived in his arms when we were hanging out, and even though she was thankfully outgrowing some of the childish games (just like Brittany had predicted), she still clammed up anytime I teased her about him.

“We’re just close friends,” she’d say, eyes on her notebook or wherever else she could look that wasn’t me.

So when I couldn’t get anywhere with them, I approached Matthew during lunch when it was their day to be student monitors. He was sitting on a bench outside, flicking the edge of his juice box and barely looking up.

“Do you think those two are closer?” I asked, sitting beside him. “I mean, you let us sit on you or hug you sometimes now, too, but Brandon always lets her. It’s like default.”

Matthew’s brow furrowed as he considered it. “I noticed it from the start, but I just thought it was my imagination.”

“Brandon says it’s mine,” I said, rolling my eyes. “I asked him about it once last year—before you hung out with us. He chose her over me when we first met. I notice more even now, and I try to ask when I can. He won’t even look at me when he answers. He always says we’re equal, but he clearly favours her.”

“I dunno why, though,” Matthew said. “You’re so much prettier. She’s cute, too, I guess, but any boy would pick you.”

My stomach twisted, not in the good way. “Then why can’t I find a boyfriend?”

He shrugged. “Probably ‘cause we’re in grade six? Boyfriends and girlfriends are for high schoolers.”

I snorted. “No, they’re not. People date at our age all the time. Matthew, we’re gonna be twelve soon! Brittany got her first boyfriend when she was in grade eight, remember?”

He gave me a crooked smile. “Yeah, but most boys are still scared of having a girlfriend. Like, we see cute girls and yeah, we want a girlfriend… but what are we even supposed to do? I’m scared to hold a girl’s hand.”

“It’s just hand-holding,” I said, and before he could protest, I reached over and took his hand in mine. “See? Nothing to it. Now kissing—that’d be different.”

Matthew’s smirk widened. “I dare you to kiss me, then. You can be my first kiss. I bet Ashley and Brandon already have.”

That jab hit harder than I expected. Had they? Would she beat me to that, too?

I didn’t think. I just leaned in and kissed him.

He blinked at me, stunned. “Wow. I didn’t expect you actually to do it.”

“I want to be the first,” I said quickly. “I don’t think no one saw, and so maybe we shouldn’t tell anyone, but… at least now I know. I bet they haven’t kissed yet.”

Matthew leaned back, his eyes narrowed as if he were thinking. “Think they’ll date?”

I hesitated.

“Last year, before I was friends with you guys,” he continued, “I kinda thought maybe it’d be you and Brandon. Some kids still say that. But now that I know you all better… I dunno. I think it might be them. But you’re prettier, so maybe he’ll pick you.”

“I don’t want him,” I said without missing a beat.

And I didn’t. Sure, I noticed he was cute—who wouldn’t? He was his brother’s miniature, and I had a massive crush on Brent. But it was never like that. I didn’t want to date him. I just wanted the kind of closeness he had with Ashley—that bond.

Besides, I thought Seth was cuter anyway.

“Brandon has said that too,” Matthew added, his voice dropping. “But I get surprised when it comes to you. Anyway, I wouldn’t worry about the boyfriend thing, Erin. It’ll happen for you way sooner. I don’t wanna be mean, but I bet Ashley doesn’t even get a boyfriend until she’s a lot older.”

He glanced sideways, like he wasn’t sure if he should keep going, then shrugged and finished his thought anyway.

“She isn’t the prettiest. She’s cute in an awkward kind of way, but not… pretty.”

I didn’t say anything. Just twisted my hair between my fingers and stared at my feet.

It wasn’t something I liked thinking about, but it wasn’t like I hadn’t noticed. We were all changing. Brandon had started to get taller, Matthew’s voice cracked sometimes, and me—well, I’d caught my reflection the other day and didn’t hate it.

But Ashley… she’d lost that kiddish, soft look. Her face had started maturing in an uneven way—eyes a little too big, her huge nose a little off-centre, jaw too sharp one day, too soft the next. I hated myself for noticing. Hated it even more for agreeing with Matthew in silence.

But I wasn’t going to say it out loud. Not even to him. Not even if it was the truth. Not about my best friend.

I figured we could do more to help her, but I never wanted to bring it up because I didn’t want to hurt her feelings. I figured the best way about it was to invite a bunch of girls over for a makeover and sleepover party.

I figured it’d be something we could do to mark the end of sixth grade. It was a grown-up thing to do. We were now the second-oldest grade in both schools.

In two years, we’d be getting ready to graduate and go to High School. I figured the best way to commence it was by having a real makeover sleepover, and the best part was that Brittany offered her room since Brooke would be gone for that weekend.

The Wellingtons were amazing in that regard. I think Mr. and Mrs. Wellington loved having kids over so much because, why else would they always let us host our parties there? I knew they were both getting sad because Brent was about to graduate from High School and he’d been accepted into the University of Toronto. He’d be living in Toronto part-time for the next four years.

I didn’t let on how devastated I truly was, though Ashley had openly cried about it when we first found out. Nick, Rissa, and Brent were all leaving us for Toronto. It would be strange without them around. I would miss going down to his room to see what they were up to. It would feel empty without the three of them hanging out here, or their extended friends, whom I’d grown close to over the past couple of years.

Brent planned to have a big graduation party here, and it’d probably be his last big blowout. Soon, he’d be a grown-up too.

7

Chapter 7

After getting permission from Brent, I held the sleepover the night of his graduation party. The Wellingtons were going all out for his party, and everyone in town knew it was happening. (That was the thing about small towns, these things spread fast.)

Everyone wanted to go because even two years later, their family was a big deal to a town that didn’t even have traffic lights or real sidewalks.

So, I knew everyone I wanted to invite would come just for his party alone. At first, I wanted it to be kind of exclusive, but after thinking about it, I wanted all the girls in our class to come.

After all, someday, I’d be the one hosting high school parties everyone would want to come to. I felt it in my bones that I’d be the popular girl who always had them, just like in high school movies. It was my destiny.

So, even if I hated Paige and her friends and they hated me, it was time to establish this early on because Paige would try to usurp my spot—and I hated to admit it, but she had the chance to.

It’s part of the reason I needed Ashley to change. I would never back out on my promise and ditch her, but I couldn’t let her hold me back from my destiny either. Friendship needed compromises.

When I spotted Ashley walking across the Wellington’s perfectly manicured lawn, wearing an oversized red t-shirt that hung off her like a tent paired with baggy lime green shorts that looked like something from a costume shop, I knew I had to step in.

Even if we weren’t having the sleepover, didn’t she have any respect for Brent?

“But it’s casual,” Ashley said, waving her arm around at all the outfits around us. “Not even Mr. and Mrs. Wellington are dressed up. Look at Brittany,” she nodded towards Brittany, who was sitting on the wooden steps of the wraparound porch, wearing jean shorts and a white t-shirt that actually fit her properly.

“Yeah, but they know how to dress themselves,” I stated, my voice getting sharper. “Casual doesn’t mean wearing sloppy clothes that don’t match. We’re turning twelve this summer, even if you don’t want to dress up, it’s time you learn how to match your clothes. Now go upstairs and put on the clothes I set out for you on Brandon’s bed.”

I’d picked out an outfit for her the night before, fearing she’d do something like this, and had carefully laid it out for her that morning. The pale blue shorts and white tank top I’d chosen would actually fit her and look like she cared about herself. If I could, I would toss the outfit she was wearing into the garbage so she’d never wear it again.

She rolled her eyes and let out a long, dramatic sigh before turning to head into the house through the massive sliding back patio doors.

“You shouldn’t be pressuring her like that,” I heard behind me and jumped, my heart skipping. I spun around to see Hazel and Shayla Baker standing on the stone walkway behind me, both dressed up as if it were a formal party—but that was par for the course with them. They treated a typical school day like it was a fashion show.

Sometimes, I wanted to dress like them too, with their perfectly coordinated outfits and shiny hair that always looked like they’d just stepped out of a magazine. However, I often ruined mine at school, getting dirt on them during recess or spilling my lunch. I’d make sure I looked good, but I never wore my really nice clothes to school.

Unsure of which twin had spoken, I shrugged before saying, “Well, you two shouldn’t talk. Look at you. You’re both gorgeous, but Ashley has a point that it’s just casual.”

“We’re not pressuring anyone to change,” Hazel stated, crossing her arms over her flowery dress.

The Baker twins were identical, blue-eyed blonde girls who looked like they belonged in a shampoo commercial. At one time, I’d had trouble telling them apart, but Shayla had a small scar on her left cheek, so I’d always look for it when one of them spoke to me.

“I think I’m pretty generous when it comes to her,” I responded, feeling my cheeks get hot as I became defensive. “Did you see her outfit? My mother would never let me leave the house looking like that.”

Actually, my mother probably wouldn’t care. Mom was usually too busy getting ready for work or dealing with Corey’s latest mess to pay attention to what I wore.

Anytime I complained about Ashley’s outfits to Mom, she’d tell me it was better than how some girls my age wore as few clothes as possible, which she thought was even more inappropriate—but the twins didn’t know that. Mom was the reason why I didn’t get to wear clothes like Paige did: belly shirts, short skirts, and all that.

“But you like made her feel bad,” Shayla remarked, her voice getting higher. “It will just make her resist more. She’s also poor and probably doesn’t have options, unlike you.”

I bristled at that comment, my stomach twisting into a knot, because they had no idea what my family’s finances were like. The truth was, unless Brittany gave me some clothes, most of mine were from the second-hand store, where everything smelled like mothballs and old perfume.

I had found some of my favourite outfits from there, and I always looked put together. My clothes always matched. Ashley either got Katie’s old clothes (who knew how to dress) from the second-hand store or from Brittany. It was how she paired them that was the problem.

That, and she had no taste. Her mom let her pick her clothes out when they shopped, so she’d probably been the one to pick out those lime green shorts. Katie wouldn’t be caught dead in them.

“Being poor isn’t an excuse. She’s not the only one. Half the people in this town are poor,” I said, folding my arms across my chest.

“Either way, you should let her decide on her own. She will figure it out herself,” Hazel said before she and Shayla walked off towards the deck, their sandals clicking against the stone pathway.

I’ll give her a year, I told myself, watching them disappear inside the house. If she is still dressing like that this time next year, I’ll step in. She will not go to high school dressed like that. For now, I’ll only intervene on days like today.

* * *

The sleepover was a disaster.

For years, I’d laughed at Brandon’s need for contracts, and I was thankful he’d basically outgrown making them, but on nights like tonight, it made me appreciate them a little.

In grade five, whenever we’d play a game, even if it were just house, he’d make a contract for how it should go with lists and everything, something that made me roll my eyes so much I was surprised I didn’t get a headache.

But when you host a party with over twenty girls crowded into Brittany and Brooke’s huge bedroom, it turns out something like a contract might have helped—especially when you have a best friend like Ashley.

Once we were sent inside as Brent’s party got rowdier with the night setting in, the sound of older teenagers laughing and music thumping from the backyard grew louder. I decided we should style our hair first and then do our makeup.

The bedroom was perfect for it. Brittany had an oversized vanity with a mirror surrounded by light bulbs like a movie star, and Brooke had another mirror on her dresser. There were outlets everywhere for hair dryers and curling irons, and the carpet was soft and clean for us to sit on.

To be fair, about more than half the girls were fine with that. They gathered around the mirrors, chattering excitedly as they pulled out brushes and lip gloss from their overnight bags. The other group? The one I decided to call Ashley’s? They didn’t want to do their hair, wear makeup, or dress up. They wanted to play with Barbies!

My face burned red with embarrassment and anger as Ashley led a group of six girls to the other side of the room, where Brooke kept her old big plastic bin full of dolls and tiny clothes. They plopped down on the plush carpet and started pulling out Barbies with tangled hair and missing shoes, their voices rising and squeaking as they made the dolls talk to each other.

Here we were, on the brink of seventh grade, at a grown-up sleepover, and she wanted to play with toys! We were too old for that! This whole party was meant to be for her after all. How could she not see that!?

Paige and Leah exchanged smirks as they watched the small group of girls play, their eyes glinting with mean satisfaction before they looked at me. Paige was sitting cross-legged on Brittany’s bed, running a purple brush through Leah’s long blond hair while the other girls around them giggled.

“I don’t get why you hang out with her. I can tell you’re embarrassed,” Paige said, her voice carrying across the room loud enough for everyone to hear.

“I’m not,” I said quickly, looking away from Ashley, who was now making a Barbie walk across the carpet. “I’m just annoyed because I wanted us all to do this together.”

“Oh, come on, we all know she embarrasses you all the time. I’d be embarrassed if my best friend didn’t grow up past grade four.”

“Brittany says everyone grows up at different rates,” I said, my voice sounding smaller than I wanted it to. “We’re not even twelve yet.”

“You’re turning twelve this summer. More than half the girls in this room already are,” Paige said, gesturing around the room with the brush. “Ashley will still be playing with Barbies in high school. You might be loyal to her now, but people often form new friendships in high school and leave their old ones behind. All I’m saying is if she’s still doing it by then, you should look for better friends.”

The rest of the night was no better. Ashley’s group kept to themselves on their side of the room, their voices mixing as they created elaborate stories for their dolls. They eventually stopped playing with the Barbies, but they insisted on watching princess movies instead of movies like Clueless, which I wanted to watch.

I stomped out of the room in frustration as they slipped the Cinderella tape into Brooke’s and Brittany’s VCR, my bare feet stomping against the carpeted floor of the hallway. Why couldn’t Ashley act like a normal girl our age for once? I leaned against the cool wall with my eyes closed, taking deep breaths so I wouldn’t storm back in and yell at her, embarrassing us both in front of everyone.

“Erin?”

I opened my eyes to see Mrs. Wellington walking down the hallway, her face creased with concern. She was still wearing her dress from Brent’s graduation, but she’d taken off her heels and was padding down the hall in her stocking feet.

“What’s wrong, honey?”

Though I typically didn’t vent to her about my friends, especially Ashley, I couldn’t help it that night. It exploded out of me the moment she asked, words tumbling over each other like water bursting from a broken dam.

“What if they’re right? She’s my best friend, but I won’t be able to handle it if she is playing with Barbies in the high school hallways. I mean, she still brings cat toys to school! I don’t ever want to ditch her, but I don’t think I’ll have a choice if she is still this childish then!”

Mrs. Wellington’s face softened, and she actually laughed, a gentle sound that echoed in the quiet hallway. “Oh, honey, you don’t need to worry about that. I’d hope you wouldn’t ditch your friend over something like that, but I understand your frustration. I remember what it was like being a teenager—wanting to fit in, worrying about what everyone thought. People grow up at different rates. There is nothing wrong with playing with dolls at your age still. But I can see the signs in Ashley that she’s outgrowing it. I doubt she will still be playing like this by next summer. Honey, you have over twenty girls in there with different personalities. You can’t expect them all to want to do makeovers. As for the movies? Brent has gone to a friend’s house for the night, so why don’t you watch your movie with the girls who want to, in his room? You know he won’t mind as long as you don’t leave a mess.”

“But we’re supposed to be watching movies together!” I said, even though I could see that her solution might be the best one. “It’s supposed to be a group thing!”

“Then try to compromise. See if they’ll watch yours after theirs. Erin, some battles aren’t worth fighting, and as long as you’re all having a good time, does it matter who is playing with dolls and who isn’t?”

“I guess not,” I said, but I wasn’t so sure.

It felt like it was a subtle way of telling me my feelings didn’t matter and to suck it up for Ashley’s sake. Just like everyone always did. I always had to be the bigger person. Why did she have to take so long to grow up?

I walked back into the bedroom, my feet silent on the thick carpet, where everyone thankfully agreed that we could watch Clueless next. The Barbie dolls had been put away in their bin, and girls were spreading sleeping bags across the floor while the end credits of Cinderella rolled on the TV screen. But deep down, I was still fuming about it, my chest tight with frustration. I knew Paige and the others would make fun of this sleepover for months because of the dolls and princess movies.

My first step into popularity was a disaster, but I wouldn’t let it hold me back. The next time I had a party, Ashley and I would have a talk first about how things would go. That meant no Barbies.

8

Chapter 8

Either she knew she’d embarrassed me (I never mentioned it to her because I hated hurting her feelings, and the rest of the sleepover went smoothly) or it’s as Brittany and Mrs. Wellington had said: she grew out of it. Ashley slowly stopped playing with dolls as we entered the seventh grade.

At the start of the Christmas holidays, when the first snowfall had already blanketed our town in white and Christmas lights twinkled from every house on her street, she asked me to help put her dolls and toys away, except for the designer Barbies that she never played with. My heart leapt with joy, doing a little flip in my chest like when you get the correct answer in class.

However, I kept my excitement and thoughts to myself and helped her. I remembered how sad I felt when I put my toys away for what I knew was the last time—the way my stomach had twisted with that awful feeling of growing up too fast. I wasn’t going to do anything to ruin the moment for her.

It was sad, but liberating at the same time. At least, that’s how it had been for me. Sad because I knew childhood was over in a way, but liberating because I was growing up.

We sat cross-legged on her bedroom floor, surrounded by cardboard boxes that smelled like the basement where they’d been stored. Ashley carefully lifted each doll, looking at their tangled hair and worn-out clothes before placing them gently in the tissue paper. Some of the Barbies had arms that barely stayed on, and others had hair that had been cut too short in imaginary beauty parlours.

“Should I put these away, too?” She asked, holding up one of her Babysitters Club books, the cover showing Claudia with her wild clothes and colourful earrings.

“No, the characters are our age, and I still love reading them too. Paige does too. Don’t tell her I told you that,” I said, watching Ashley’s face light up with relief.

I’d seen Paige hiding one of the books inside her math textbook when we’d been desk mates at the start of the year, her cheeks turning pink as she quickly closed it when I looked over. She’d pleaded with me not to tell anyone, her voice getting all squeaky with embarrassment. I hadn’t, but if she tried to start stuff with us again, I had ammo. Ashley would never spread it around, so it was safe to tell her.

Once we were done taping up the last box, I flopped down on her bed, my stomach on the quilted comforter, watching her organize her books on the shelf. The room looked bigger now without all the toys scattered everywhere. Besides the Babysitters Club books with their bright, colourful spines, she’d actually always read books that were more grown-up for our age. Her mom had actually let her read Flowers in the Attic, a book with a creepy cover that had made Mom flip out when she saw me with it after Ashley let me borrow it once.

It was strange. She was childish in some ways, like keeping stuffed cats on her bed and being too scared to talk to boys, yet mature in others. She didn’t even get squeamish with that book, even though it had really gross parts about brothers and sisters. She gave me the rundown of the book after Mom told me I couldn’t read it. I believed it was a blessing in disguise.

It sounded horrible and gross, full of things that made my stomach feel icky just thinking about them. But Ashley had just shrugged, as if it were no big deal, and said there were worse things in fiction. Did that mean she read worse? Maybe her mind wasn’t as innocent as I thought.

“I’m going to try to kiss Seth at Brandon’s New Year’s party,” I said, rolling over onto my back and staring at her ceiling where she still had glow-in-the-dark stars stuck up there. I watched her to see what her reaction would be.

“You should. You’ve liked him forever,” she responded, not even looking up from arranging her books by height, which surprised me.

Not just because she wasn’t giggling at the idea of kissing like she used to do whenever anyone mentioned it, but because I hadn’t told anyone about my crush. I’d wanted to tell her for months, but I worried she wouldn’t understand having real feelings for a boy, even though I genuinely believed she and Brandon still secretly wanted each other.

“How did you know?” I asked, sitting up and pulling my knees to my chest.

“Everyone knows. You talk about him all the time. Plus, you gave him a Christmas present on the last day of school,” she said, finally turning around to face me with a knowing smile.

Everyone knows? Was I that obvious? My cheeks burned with embarrassment. Okay, the Christmas present was probably obvious since I didn’t get anyone else anything besides small, broken candy canes with a note that said “Merry Christmas” in my best handwriting. But before that?

“Is everyone talking about me?”

“Not in a bad way,” she responded, sitting on her dresser and gazing at me. “They think you and Seth could be one of the class couples. I think he likes you, too.”

One of the class couples? My throat felt tight as I swallowed nervously. Not many people were together in seventh grade, but when they did get together, it was a pretty big deal. Everyone expected people to date in grade eight, but it didn’t happen often in grade seven.

The other seventh-grade class had two couples—Lila and Mike, and Jessica and Tom—and everyone always watched them hold hands in the hallways, as if they were celebrities or something. I’d be the first in our class. And at that moment, staring at Ashley’s confident face, I knew I had to go for it. Seth would never say no to me.

“Do you think Mrs. Wellington would let us have a co-ed sleepover?” I asked Ashley, who was now arranging her cat ornaments on her shelf beside the dresser—little ceramic cats of all different colours that caught the afternoon light from her window.

She still wouldn’t give up her cat stuff, but my mom had Canadian Geese ornaments covering our mantel, and so did Ashley’s mother. Maybe animals were okay for decoration, so I didn’t suggest she put them away. She’d asked me to point out anything else that was too childish to be out, but the cats seemed different somehow.

“What do you mean? We have them all the time here or over there with the four of us. Mom has practically adopted Matthew,” she said, raising her eyebrows and tilting her head like I was being silly.

“It doesn’t count when it’s us four and you know it,” I said, rolling my eyes. “If you wanted just Chad to stay over, for example, your mom would say no. Chad is different from Brandon. Just like Mrs. Wellington wouldn’t let Brandon have any other girl but you and me, stay. I want to have a bunch of guys and girls from our class to stay over at Brandon’s and play kissing games.”

The words hung in the air between us, and I held my breath waiting for her reaction.

“She will probably let us,” Ashley said, her voice getting a little higher with excitement. “I mean, as long as we don’t mention the kissing part.”

Again, she surprised me. Last year, she’d be giggling and turning red at even the mention of kissing games, but I could see the way her brown eyes lit up that she wanted to play too. Maybe she was finally growing up.

“No Barbies,” I told her, though I wasn’t sure if it was necessary anymore. We’d had more sleepovers since the disaster at Brent’s graduation, and she’d listened when I made my request without arguing.

“I have no interest in playing with Barbies,” she told me, rolling her eyes in a way that reminded me of how the older girls at school acted. “But what if none of the boys want to kiss me?”

Her voice got smaller at the end, and I could see that worried look creeping across her face—the same one she got when she thought she might get picked last for teams in gym class.

“Don’t worry about that. We will get Brittany to help us dress up before we have the party,” I said, waiting for her to protest about makeovers like she usually did, but she didn’t.

One thing I had to say about her was that she’d taken me seriously since Brent’s party. Her clothes were still childish sometimes—like the sweater with the cartoon cat she’d worn yesterday—and they were often sloppy, wrinkly and some too baggy when she was wearing her older sister’s hand-me-downs. But she matched them now. She didn’t look like she’d gotten dressed in the dark anymore. I would take this new look over the old one.

By high school, I’d ease her into better clothes—maybe some of the styles I saw in the teen magazines I’d started reading. But for now, I’d take this new version of her. Mrs. Wellington’s words about picking my battles often echoed in my thoughts like a song stuck in my head, and they were ones I took seriously.

9

Chapter 9

Having everyone over wasn’t a big deal as Mrs. Wellington always let their kids invite as many people as they wanted for New Year’s, and Brandon barely shrugged when I mentioned I wanted the whole grade to come.

But I’d slowly been noticing a difference in him. His goody two-shoes image he’d always insisted on having was slowly drifting away in favour of wanting to please our classmates, too.

It was subtle at first, such as not raising his hand as often in class when he knew the answer, or letting other kids copy his homework without lecturing them about cheating. But in the past, he’d refuse to do some of the silly things boys our age did—like throwing spitballs or making rude noises during silent reading—and now he was the first to volunteer.

That night, he surprised us all by opening his closet door and showing us the bottles of beer he’d been sneaking into his room for the past week, hidden behind his clothes in bins where his parents wouldn’t look. There were enough brown bottles for each of us to have one, lined up like soldiers on his closet floor.

“They’re probably warm,” he warned as he passed them around, the glass bottles making soft clinking sounds as kids grabbed them with nervous excitement.

“Beer is gross,” Paige told him as he handed her one, her nose wrinkling up like she’d smelled something bad.

“Then don’t drink it,” he told her, his voice flat and matter-of-fact. “It’s the best I could do. You’d never pull this under your parents’ noses.”

No apologies like he would have in the past when someone complained about his ideas. As others snickered around us, he smirked. Something the old Brandon wouldn’t do—he used to get all red-faced and flustered when people like Paige taunted him. He was evolving. Maybe he’d actually be cool one day. Perhaps it was my influence. After all, Ashley was changing because of me, so why not Brandon?

Ashley turned her beer down, shaking her head with wide eyes when Brandon offered her one, but it was expected. However, she wasn’t the only one to refuse, so I didn’t feel embarrassed by it. More than half the kids didn’t want any, their faces scrunched up in disgust or fear.

“More for us!” A loud boy named Kirk shouted out, pumping his fist in the air like he’d just won something important.

“No more than one,” Brandon said sharply, his voice getting that stern tone that reminded me of his dad.

“Oh come on,” I said, rolling my eyes at him.

Some things never change about people. Brandon was still Brandon, even when he was trying to be cool.

“If you guys get drunk and it’s obvious, my parents won’t let me have anyone over again. Not even you three. No more than one each. All of your parents trust mine, and I don’t want to mess that up. I know no one in this room wants that either.”

Whatever. I was going to sneak more later when he wasn’t paying attention. For now, it was time to set up the kissing games, so once I was finished with mine—the bitter taste still making my face scrunch up—I stood up from where I’d been sitting cross-legged on his carpet.

“Everyone, sit in a circle! We’re all playing Spin-the-Bottle!”

Kids started moving around the room, some excited and giggling, others looking nervous as they found spots on Brandon’s thick blue carpet. I held up my empty beer bottle before placing it in the middle of our circle.

“Um, is everyone playing? Because I didn’t consent to kissing anyone who is undesirable,” a boy named Xavier said, his voice getting loud and mean as his eyes fell on Maisie, who was sitting quietly, her greasy blonde hair hanging in her face, then on Ashley, whose excited expression changed to a hurt one that made my stomach twist.

“Yes, can the undesirables maybe sit this one out?” Paige asked, her voice dripping with fake sweetness as her eyes fixed on Ashley, too.

I saw Ashley’s face crumple like a piece of paper being crushed, her shoulders hunching forward as if she wanted to disappear.

“You know what? We’re not playing then,” Brandon said, reaching over and taking the bottle from me before I could even react. “If you guys are too immature to play with everyone, we’re not playing.”

“Goody two-shoes Wellington strikes again,” a boy named Don said, his voice sing-songy and mocking.

“Better than being a bully for no reason,” Brandon shot back, and I was shocked because he used to quiver and turn red when people called him that name. Now his voice was steady and angry.

But I knew why he was acting like this. He’d seen the looks the others had been giving Ashley all night—the way they whispered when she walked by, the way they rolled their eyes when she talked. He wasn’t going to let her be humiliated like that. He wouldn’t have stepped in for Maisie, but when his best friend was the centre of attention for all the wrong reasons?

“Can’t we all just behave and all play together?” I demanded, looking around the room.

“Nope, I’m ending it before it starts,” Brandon said, crossing his arms over his chest. “We will all just hang out until the party starts downstairs. We can swim if you all want.”

“Anyone who drank a beer should probably wait, though,” Matthew said.

I hated people like Paige. Why did they have to ruin it for everyone else? Others were glaring daggers at them, too, their faces dark with annoyance, so I hoped the next time I suggested games like this, they would all behave. This wasn’t the last time I’d try, but for tonight, maybe because of the alcohol making my head feel fuzzy, I could see Brandon’s point.

Instead, I hurried over to Seth, who was standing by Brandon’s door with his hands shoved in his pockets, and grabbed his arm to pull him out into the hallway, where the air was cooler.

“I want to kiss you,” I blurted, the words tumbling out before I could stop them.

My face warmed up so much that it felt like it was on fire. Okay, it wasn’t exactly the way I planned to tell him I liked him—I’d imagined something more romantic, maybe during a slow song or under mistletoe. But the beer was hitting me in a way I’d never felt before, making everything feel bold and dizzy at the same time.

“It’s why I wanted this party tonight,” I continued when he didn’t say anything, just stood there staring at me with his mouth slightly open.

Maybe I was wrong. Maybe he didn’t like me back after all those times I caught him looking at me. Perhaps we weren’t going to be a class couple after all. I’d been so sure, but he remained silent as he stared at me with wide eyes. All I wanted to do was sink through the floor and disappear forever. I wished I hadn’t drunk the beer, wished I could take back the words hanging in the air between us.

Suddenly, he leaned forward, catching me completely off guard, and pressed his lips against mine. They were warm and tasted like the beer he’d been drinking. I was so stunned by it that I began to giggle against his mouth, the sound bubbling up like shaken pop.

“I’m sorry,” I said, pulling back and covering my mouth with my hand, trying to contain the nervous laughter. “I liked it. I just wasn’t expecting it. Does that mean we are together now? Like the class couple?”

I held my breath waiting for him to respond, my heart beating so fast it felt like it might jump out of my chest. Maybe I’d turned him off by giggling like a little kid. Maybe he just wanted to kiss, and that’s it.

“Um, yeah, sure. Of course,” he stammered, his cheeks turning pink in the dim hallway light.

I had done it! I had my first boyfriend, and I was the first in the class to be part of a class couple. Everyone would be so jealous, especially Paige. She’d been convinced that she’d be with Brandon soon, always finding excuses to sit near him or ask him homework questions, but he still had his eyes on Ashley.

I wanted more than anything to tell him to make a move on her, but I wasn’t going to interfere when I was sure they didn’t even realize they liked each other yet.

10

Chapter 10

At first, things were perfect with Seth. It helped that he was already friends with Brandon, so he often went to Brandon’s after school. From that moment forward, we were inseparable.

He didn’t even get too upset if I giggled when we kissed. It was something I tried not to do, and I didn’t know why I did it. When we kissed at midnight on New Year’s Eve, I giggled again, but I thought it was the beer making me giddy. Unfortunately, I did it days later when we kissed again, this time with no beer as an excuse.

The best part about it was that Paige and her friends were jealous. They’d known it happened on New Year’s Eve—half the grade had watched us kiss when the countdown hit zero—but they’d claimed we’d be broken up by the end of January. But when Seth and I were still going strong by February, walking hand in hand down the hallways and sharing lunches, they moved on to the newest couple, Brandon and Rachel.

No one was more surprised than I. Brandon was handsome, but he could be off-putting for some girls because he was too serious at times. It was why I knew we’d never work. Just being his friend was aggravating enough when he got all lecture-y about homework. His girlfriend? No thanks.

What I didn’t get was if he was ready for a girlfriend, why not Ashley? He barely knew Rachel. She was new last spring, had only moved here in April, and I hadn’t even known her name until he told us they were dating.

One thing I noticed, though, was that Rachel had brown hair and brown eyes, and about the same weight and height as Ashley. She even had that same way of tucking her hair behind her ear when she was nervous.

Maybe he was too nervous to go for his best friend, so he went for someone similar instead. She’d been one of the girls who’d played with dolls at my sleepover, and she was also a bit of a tomboy who wore oversized flannel shirts every day. It seemed too much of a coincidence to me, but I didn’t dare share my thoughts with them.

One afternoon after school, when the February wind was whipping snow around the school yard and making our cheeks sting with cold, I joined Matthew on one of the wooden benches outside our classroom. We were waiting for Brandon and Ashley, who were bus monitors. Their job was to ensure all the little kids who came from out of town got on the right buses safely.

The bench was freezing through my jeans, and I pulled my winter coat tighter around me as I watched Matthew’s breath make little white clouds in the air.

I didn’t understand why they volunteered to do that stuff. Standing outside in the cold, dealing with crying kindergarteners who missed their buses, and making sure rowdy third-graders didn’t push each other in the snow. I couldn’t handle Corey and his second-grade friends when they came over to our house. No way was I going to hang out with kids under ten by choice.

“Why do you think Brandon chose Rachel instead of Ashley?” I asked, watching a yellow bus pull up to the curb with a rumble of its engine and a squeak of brakes.

Matthew shrugged, his shoulders hunched up inside his thick winter jacket. We’d talked more than once about their crushes on each other since I’d first brought my thoughts up about them.

“It’s not easy to tell your best friend you like them. Besides, Ashley isn’t ready for a boyfriend,” Matthew said, his words coming out in puffs of steam. “It would ruin their friendship.”

“Why do you think she isn’t ready?”

I agreed with that statement and had my own thoughts on that, but I wanted to hear his. My biggest one was if I struggled not to giggle when Seth and I kissed, then there was no way she could handle it. She was too immature for a real relationship.

“She’s too insecure,” he said, kicking at a chunk of snow with his boot. “She’d drive a guy nuts. I love her, but God, she drives me crazy when she keeps going on about how we can do better than her as friends, and that we will probably ditch her in high school. And it’s getting worse the older we get. Any boyfriend she gets will get sick of reassuring her all the time.”

It was significant that Matthew used the word love. As far as I knew, he hated that word. It wasn’t anything he said to make me think that, but anytime someone told him they loved him, especially the Wellingtons, he’d grimace and move away if they tried to hug him. He’d once yelled at Brent for saying it to him, his face turning red with anger.

I knew a lot of it stemmed from his self-hatred from his parents’ abuse, but it was hard not to take note of it now. I didn’t think I’d ever heard him use it with one of us. I was sure I’d remember him telling me.

“Unless it’s Brandon, she probably won’t get a boyfriend until grade eleven or twelve, and hopefully she’ll have stopped worrying about us ditching her by then,” I said, my teeth starting to chatter. “But you’re not wrong, I get fed up with it too. If I’m still friends with her after she pulled that stunt at the sleepover last summer, nothing will stop us now. I don’t get why she can’t see that we aren’t going anywhere.”

“You’re one to talk,” Matthew said, putting an arm around me and pulling me closer on the bench.

“What do you mean?” I asked, surprised.

“You’re always worried that Brandon and Ashley are closer and will ditch you. You think everyone prefers her.”

“That’s because they do!” I said, my voice getting higher. “I can tell that the Wellingtons like her better. Nick does. Even you do! You just said you love her, but not me!”

“Who says I don’t with all three of you?” He asked, winking at me, his eyes watering from the cold wind.

“You never said it until now. I tell all of you I love you all the time!”

“It’s not easy for me to say,” Matthew responded, his arm tightening around my shoulders. “I didn’t even mean to say it then. It slipped out. The three of you changed my life. Trust me. I love you too.”

He leaned over and kissed my cheek, his lips cold against my skin. All of this happened at the worst possible time. Chad and Seth, who were also bus monitors, were walking towards us from the main school building, their feet crunching through the snow-packed walkway. They were close enough to hear him.

“I was just reassuring her!” Matthew said, jumping up from the bench so fast he almost slipped on the icy ground, and without waiting, he tore off, not looking back.

“I’m just going to get my stuff,” Chad said, not stopping, and he passed me without looking at me as Seth approached, his face serious under his touque.

“It was completely innocent!” I told him, standing up and brushing snow off my jeans.

“I know. I heard and saw the whole thing, but I think if we are going to stay together, you shouldn’t be like that with them. This isn’t the first time, and I know you don’t like Brandon and Matthew like that, but I don’t want you guys touching each other unless you need to from now on.”

“You can’t control me like that,” I said quickly, my voice getting defensive.

“No, but you wouldn’t like it either if I were like that with other girls. I just think respect goes both ways.”

“I’m not going to stop hugging my friends,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest.

“Okay, fine. I went too far with that. I’m sorry. You’re right. It’s unreasonable to ask that you not hug or touch your friends. What I meant is you’re always still cuddling with them and stuff. You were sitting on Matthew’s lap the other day when we were watching TV. Just please don’t do stuff with them that you wouldn’t want me doing. You’d be furious if another girl sat on my lap, even if it was Ashley. Let’s just set some boundaries. It’s out of respect, Erin.”

“Okay,” I said, my shoulders relaxing under my heavy coat.

No way would I let any boy come between Brandon, Matthew and me. They came first before any boyfriend, and I knew at that moment it was something I’d have to navigate when it came to boyfriends if Seth and I didn’t work out.

I leaned forward and kissed him, congratulating myself inwardly when I didn’t giggle. His lips were warm despite the cold air.

“We should probably find Matthew,” Seth said, laughing now as his breath made clouds between us. “Like I’d ever want to fight him.”

Matthew was sometimes a bit of a wild card. He’d pick fights with people for no reason, and if they fought back, he won. By this point, most people backed off because he was a brutal fighter who didn’t know when to stop. Brent and Nick were trying to teach him not to do that because they believed it was a manifestation of repressed anger from his home life.

I laughed as well because it was the first time I’d ever seen him run off like that, his backpack bouncing as he practically sprinted away. He knew he could win in a fight against Seth.

“We will wait for Brandon and Ashley. Matthew has probably gone to her place. We will just go there.”

After that day, however, Seth continued to feel jealous of Brandon and Matthew, even though we did our best to avoid doing anything to upset him. But we all liked to roughhouse at times—play-fighting over the TV remote or wrestling for the last piece of pizza—which would cause Seth to storm off with his face red and angry.

“You should break up with him if he keeps it up. I didn’t even touch you,” Brandon said after Seth stormed home on one of these occasions, slamming his bedroom door behind him so hard it rattled the windows.

“We’re fine, please stay out of it,” I said, not looking up from the magazine I was flipping through. “Maybe I don’t want advice from someone who couldn’t even keep his girlfriend for more than a few weeks.”

It was a low blow because they had just broken up over the same thing the day before. Rachel kept getting jealous of us, but when she told him he couldn’t hug Ashley again, he told her to leave and never come back.

“He’s actually the best one to give you that advice,” Matthew pointed out from where he was sprawled on the carpet playing video games.

“He seems like he’s getting worse,” Ashley added, looking up from her homework with worried eyes. “You’d be talking to us if one of us were in your situation.”

“You’d be interfering,” Brandon said.

“You know what? Fine. When it comes to relationships, none of us can interfere like this. I want to stay with him and give him a chance, so back off.”

They technically weren’t overstepping. We’d all made a vow to each other that we’d protect each other and intervene if we felt like one of us was in a bad situation. We all knew we were growing up and the kind of situations we could get into, but this wasn’t the same as getting drunk and going home with someone. Or someone pressuring us to do drugs.

This was just Seth and me trying to work things out, and as much as I loved them, I didn’t want my friends to get involved.

Everyone thought Seth and I were the golden couple. We’d been picked to dance first at the Valentine’s dance, spinning around the decorated gym while everyone else watched and clapped. Paige had even given me some gorgeous silver earrings as a grudgingly given gift of congratulations. I wasn’t giving that up. Seth would just learn to get in line.

11

Chapter 11

You know how, when you’re watching a movie, and your favourite scene comes up, so you have to rewind it several times to watch it repeatedly until you’re satisfied?

What do you do when it’s a horrible moment in your life that keeps rewinding and replaying in your head, even though you don’t want it to?

All I could focus on was the moment Seth handed me a letter at the end of school today, and then ran off before I could even look at it.

To: Erin,

I think we should break up. It’s not working out because you are still all over Matthew and Brandon all the time, and I don’t like how you keep giggling when we kiss. I hope we can still be friends.

From: Seth

I was thankful that Corey was obsessed with playing video games lately. I could lie on my bed, sobbing and eating the chocolate cookies Mom had made last night while I looked at pictures or other memorabilia from our relationship.

Two months of being the golden couple down the drain just because Seth was immature. I mean, he couldn’t even tell me in person that he wanted to end it. He had to do it by letter!

This couldn’t have come at the worst possible time! More and more people were getting in relationships. Even Matthew seemed to have something with a girl in grade six—he wouldn’t tell us what, but everyone noticed that he walked her home lately.

Brandon and Ashley were too much in denial to get together, but what if they got into relationships, too? It hadn’t escaped my notice that Seth stared at Ashley a lot. I wouldn’t care if she dated him, but not until I met someone first.

She would probably be too nervous to go for a boy I dated, but I didn’t mind. He wasn’t important to me.

A lot of the girls in our class were silly and thought they’d still be together when they were adults, but something told me I’d have many beaus before I married the one. I knew I wouldn’t meet him when I wasn’t even in high school yet.

Yet, that didn’t stop the tears as I thought over it again. We were supposed to be the couple everyone was jealous of. The couple that outlasted everyone. There were no other boys in my class.

Paige had been so jealous, and now she was with Ted. On Monday, when we went back to school, who knew what she’d say! This was just too horrible!

As I lay on my back on my bed sobbing, I heard a small knock on my door. I was about to tell Corey to go away, but Matthew and Brandon walked in instead.

“What’s going on? I thought you said Corey was going to a babysitter tonight. I thought you were coming for dinner,” Brandon said as I sat up and wiped my tears away.

“Where is Ashley?” I asked.

“Getting Corey a snack,” Matthew responded.

Of course she was. I rolled my eyes at that. He didn’t need a snack. He could wait for Mom to come home and make him dinner. I’d told him that on the way home when he’d whined that he was hungry. No doubt he’d begged her and made her feel sorry for him.

He’d been drawn to her since the day they met, and most of the time, I didn’t mind, but times like these, he annoyed me. He always managed to get his way with her. She didn’t like tough love.

So, when she entered the room about five minutes later, after I’d filled the boys in, I couldn’t help but make a snarky remark when she joined us.

“He was hungry, and I didn’t know he’d eaten already.” She said.

“He didn’t, but he can eat when Mom gets home. He doesn’t need a full meal when he gets home every day.”

“Mom makes us snack every time you guys come over after school,” Brandon said. “Besides, you’ve been eating cookies,” he pointed to the plate of half-eaten cookies, and my cheeks warmed up.

“So?” I demanded. “This isn’t about Corey and how spoiled he is! My heart is broken! My life is ruined! Seth broke up with me. Now I don’t get to be a class couple anymore!”

The tears flowed down my cheeks again. This was just the worst!

“Are you sad about Seth or not being a class couple anymore?” Brandon asked.

“Why does that matter?” I demanded, hardly believing they weren’t comforting me.

To be fair, Ashley did come sit beside me and put her arm around me, but she should have been the first one up here instead of making Corey snacks!

Brandon and Ashley looked at each other while Matthew stared at my pink comforter, tracing circles with his index finger. He hated it when people showed emotion like this. It was something we’d gotten used to years ago. So, I didn’t take offence to it.

But I hated when Ashley and Brandon did that. They were always able to silently communicate like that, having a world that Matthew and I couldn’t penetrate.

“You’ve been bored with Seth for a while,” Ashley said. “You told me last weekend that you dreaded it when you had to hang out with him. You were sick of him getting mad about Brandon and Matthew. You were even thinking about doing it instead.”

“At the end of grade seven!” I exclaimed as fresh tears streamed down my cheeks. “I wanted to be the one who did it, but not until we outlasted every couple. No one else was the golden couple! We were. And the March Break dance is coming up. Who will I dance with now!”

“You’ll have a lineup of boys like usual,” Matthew said. “Probably even more now.”

“Wait. Why more?” I asked, wiping my tears away, feeling intrigued.

“Because you’re newly single and the boys were upset when you went off the market,” Ashley said.

I perked up at that. She wasn’t wrong. How many boys had told me they wished they’d asked me out when they had the chance? I’d lost track, and last weekend, when she and I just had a sleepover, I’d confessed everything to her.

How every time I held Seth’s hand, I wanted to drop it and hated when he grabbed mine. How I cringed whenever he kissed me (even if I still giggled), and how lately, it was him making the first move instead of me.

It hit me then that he probably sensed me pulling away. That’s why he did it. He was probably still madly in love with me, but he’d ended things so he wouldn’t get hurt. I just wish it hadn’t been a letter. It drew too many parallels to my parents’ breakup, but the difference was that my father was a coward. Seth just didn’t know how to deal with the idea that the love of his life was pulling away.

In fact, a letter made sense. I bet he would have cried when he pulled the plug, and he wanted to spare himself the embarrassment. I wouldn’t have judged him, but I’d been hanging out with two boys who hated crying for two years, so I imagined Seth was the same.

“You’re right about everything, and on Monday, I’ll be as nice as possible to him because he’s probably crying too as we speak. This is probably one of the hardest things that has happened to him, and that’s why he had to give me a letter.”

“The hardest thing to happen to him?” Matthew repeated.

“Losing a girl like me! No wonder he got jealous of you two and everything. He knew I was pulling away from him, and it was such a heartbreaking blow for him. Like how can someone like him deal with it? A letter! It’s Friday, so the whole weekend he will hide out in his room crying because he doesn’t get to be with me anymore!”

“Did you forget who dumped who?” Brandon asked me.

“You think he won’t be sad about losing me then?”

“No. I’m glad you’re okay with the breakup now, but you’re acting like you did the breaking up, not him,” Brandon said. “He will probably be sad too, but he’s probably fine. Seth doesn’t really dwell on bad things for long.”

Drat, he was right about that. Okay, and it’s not like I wanted Seth to be sad forever about it, but I wanted to be the one to win the breakup!

“Then I’ll just have to find a boyfriend fast!” I said, moving away from Ashley and getting out of bed. “Someone who will even be better to be my partner for the golden couple!”

“Is that what you’re saddest about? Not being a golden couple anymore?” Ashley asked.

She didn’t understand. Not like she could. From my understanding of high school from Brittany, no one really cared that much about golden couples or anything like that. People could win the couple of the year if they were nominated, but it wasn’t the same thing.

She’d explained it was because they didn’t sit in one classroom all day like we did.

It sounded like it was just something people in sixth to eighth grades cared about, but we still had a year and a half left of elementary school! I needed to be the one with that status right now. Not Paige!

“I’ll find someone else to be my golden boy,” I said, smiling.

Matthew snorted with laughter. “Did you really say your golden boy?”

“You wouldn’t understand,” I said.

He would never be part of a golden couple either. Brandon had potential if he’d loosen up more, but Matthew and Ashley could never hope to have it.

“We should go back to my place,” Brandon said, standing up and stretching. “I can call Brent.”

“I told Corey’s babysitter that we didn’t need her today,” I said.

“So, just bring him with us. We will leave a note for your mom. It’s not like it’s the first time.”

I didn’t want to bring Corey, but I glanced at the clock to see it would still be an hour or two before Mom got home. She always worked late on Friday’s, sometimes past eight. Perhaps I should have made him a snack after all, but I’d forgotten that little tidbit. I was heartbroken!

“I’ll get him ready,” Ashley said, getting up, which I was glad about. I hated getting him in his snowsuit; he’d fight me, but not her.

Brent left the room to call Brent while I looked through my overnight bag to ensure I had everything I wanted. Chances are we’d stay at Brandon’s for the weekend. Usually, we did at his or Ashley’s.

“You can come with me to the dance if you want,” Matthew told me.

“What about what’s her name?”

“She’s not allowed a boyfriend or to go to school dances. Don’t worry, I won’t stand in the way if you meet your golden boy,” he snickered as he added the last part.

I wished I hadn’t said that. To be honest I could see how ridiculous it sounded now when Matthew mocked it.

“You’d never be a golden boy,” I retorted. “Especially mine.”

“Erin, someday when we’re older, I bet I could get you if I wanted.”

“When we’re older?”

“Yeah. When dating isn’t juvenile like it is now,” Matthew winked and left the room leaving me to my thoughts.

I’d never with Brandon, but ever since I’d kissed Matthew, I had wondered what it would be like to do more. I wouldn’t want to ruin our friendship, but I couldn’t deny that as he got older, he got cuter. Shaking my head, I focused back on packing my bag for the weekend.

By Monday, Seth would see that I was okay and not sad. Maybe the giggling when we kissed had been a sign after all.